


richie tozier wins a bet, for once

by 80slieberher



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, i COULD posisibly. be persuaded to make a part two... just so u know, i was mega bored, its kind of cute?? i hope u like it, just a lil tiny thing, this is just a rando one shot i wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 22:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80slieberher/pseuds/80slieberher
Summary: stan uris loses a bet to his best friend and is forced to wear a sexy costume to a stupid party where he meets a stuttering asshole.





	richie tozier wins a bet, for once

**Author's Note:**

> this is a lil oneshot i wrote last night just because i felt like writing some half nsfw stenbrough but i didn’t know what to write so i asked my gc friends for some quotes that i had to incorporate and i wrote this adhering to the quotes. also forgive all the errors i didn’t feel like editing and was half asleep when i wrote this.  
> the quotes:  
> “damn stan lookin like a BUFFET” “ow my thighs” “i didn’t mean it like that, i swear” “fuck you, denbrough” “maybe later” (fuckboy bill??? i’m feeling it) “hand off my thigh and back on the gearshift” “it’s so warm and squidgy” “jesus, warn a guy first” “your head looks like a bowl of ramen” “you’re the bees knees” “oh, so THATS how it works”

Stan didn’t mean to get dragged here. He didn’t mean to lose the bet to Richie. He didn’t mean to ever do something like this in his life - but here he is.

_“Bet you won’t last three minutes, Stanley,” Richie smirked with his eyebrows raised as his hand hovered over the pot of mystery half-liquid, squishy looking substance that sat on the stove in their apartment._

_“What is it with you and bets, lately? First you bet against Eddie and Mike for both of us, without my consent, and now we actually have to…stick our hands in…whatever this is. You suck, Richie, but you’re on. What do I get when I win? Since you’re so great at losing these things.”_

_Richie pondered for a moment while Eddie and Mike came stumbling in from the other room, yelling something about not starting without them. Mike had his video camera in hand, and Eddie had his phone open to snapchat._

_“If I win, you have to come to that halloween frat party with me this weekend… Dressed as a french maid.” Richie smiled evilly._

_“Great. So when I win, you get to do that by yourself and have Mike send me pictures throughout the night if you in costume - so you don’t cheat.”_

_“You’re so on, Uris.”_

_And with that, Mike counted down from three, and the two boys stared each other down competitively before plunging their hands into the mystery substance._

_Stan’s hand no sooner sank into the mess before he flung it back out, squealing in disgust. Before Stan realized what he had done, Richie was smirking at him, eyes narrowed._

_“What’s wrong, Stan?” He teased, sickeningly sweetly, “It’s so warm and… squidgy.”_

Stan had dreaded that Friday night. He walked out of his room, costume unfortunately on and tight-fitting as ever - decked out in heels and even with his hair half tied up. He stumbled often, twisting his ankle several times just getting to the door.

“Your head looks like a bowl of ramen,” Richie remarked, snickering, “Come on, come on, get in the car.” He swung his keys around his finger and Stan wished they would fly off and hit him in the side of his head. Fuck Richie Tozier.

“Oww, my thighs,” Stan complained in the car on the ride over, “These things really hurt my legs,” He gestured to the shoes, “Do I really have to wear them all night?”

“Yeah, if you don’t want a second, even worse punishment,” Richie smirked again, driving so casually in the dark and jokingly patting Stan’s bare thigh.

“Hand off my thigh and back on the gearshift, Tozier,” Stan snapped at his best friend. This was Richie, and when he said he had a worse dare in mind for Stan, Stan believed him. Richie was famous for these kinds of schemes.

“Try walking heel-toe,” Richie suggested, and Stan didn’t even question how he knew that.

“Oh, so THAT’S how it works? For girls? Is that how they do it so easily all the time?” He furrows his eyebrows, looking down to the uncomfortable shoes.

Stan still stumbled out of the car when they reached the party - and realized Mike had walked down the driveway to meet them.

“Damn, Stan! Lookin’ like a BUFFET!” He joked, high-fiving Richie.

“You two are insufferable,” Stan scowled, doing his best to strut away from them and up the porch steps, into the house. He felt like a dumbass, but he wasn’t going to let it show. He tried to keep his feet aligned with his thoughts - ‘heel, toe, heel, toe.’

He walked straight to the kitchen, immediately turning to the counter full of booze and empty cups. He threw together whatever looked like it would mix well - it’s obvious this wasn’t Stan’s usual scene, and tonight, Stan was going to brave it on his own, without Mike or Richie by his side to make fun of him.

Stan grabbed his cup off of the counter and walked cautiously to the room most people seemed to be gathered in. He was surveying the room - making sure no one he knew was in there - when a body bumped into his, his nose meeting a heavy scent of axe body spray.

“Ugh,” Stan reeled in disgust, taking a step backwards and looking up at the face of the person he’d bumped into.

Of course, no other than local fratboy asshole Bill Denbrough stared back down at him with a smug ass look smeared across his face. “Jesus, w-warn a guy f-fffirst, sweet thing,” He spoke slowly, stuttering as well as slurring. His alcohol-reeking breath fanned across Stan’s face in the most unpleasant way, and Stan was already annoyed with the night - and even more with this situation. He nearly stomped his kitty heel onto Bill’s foot.

“Oh, fuck off,” Stan glared at Bill who hadn’t moved to get out of his way, “And I’m not a ‘sweet thing’. I’m a dude, if you haven’t noticed.” Stan kept calm despite his anger, trying to will Bill to move with his mind. He didn’t have time for this - what if Mike or Richie saw? What would they say? He would never hear the end of it.

Bill, in turn, giggled. Actually giggled, and leaned down to stroke the fabric of Stan’s skirt, looking intently at the material and smirking, as well as pointing to Stan’s heels. “Th-these beg t-to argue.”

“What, you’ve never seen a guy in a skirt before?” Stan snapped, tugging the bottom of his outfit away from the other boy’s hands.

“N-nnot one I’ve w-w-wanted in my be-ed,” Bill slurred again, this time closer to Stan’s ear, and Stan was getting fed up. He didn’t come here for this. He didn’t come here for anything. He didn’t even want to be here.

“Fuck you, Denbrough,” Stan squints, ready to fight someone. Bill straightened somewhat, but kept the smug look on his face.

“Maybe l-later,” Bill winked, and Stan fake gagged.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He rolled his eyes, sarcastically adding: “I swear.”

“Oh, y-you’ll be s-ss-swearing, alright,” Bill hummed again, and still hadn’t fucking moved. Stan was nearly ready to just give up and walk to a different room. He sighed.

“Can you just let me through? I’m just trying to get in there.” He looked irritatedly up at Bill. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find Bill attractive - so fucking attractive - but douchey frat boys aren’t Stan’s type.

“How ab-bout I take you s-ss somewhere b-better?”

And this is how Stanley Uris ends up completely drunk, heels kicked off over the side, grinding in the lap of William Denbrough in his bed, both of their hands greedily roaming where they pleased.

“Fuck,” Stan hissed as Bill traced his hand up the inside of Stan’s bare thigh, eventually snaking up under Stan’s skirt and onto his bare waist - effectively making him gasp.

“As h-h-hot as this lit-ttle c-costume is, it needs t-t-to come off,” Bill says, lips still smacking with Stan’s meanwhile he tugs on Stan’s skirt:

“Well, Stan! Looks like you’re having a lot of fun, but it’s time to go and you’re going to regret this in the morning,” Richie was suddenly in the doorway, surprisingly sober, moving to collect his friend away from his newfound lover. “I’ve been looking all over for you, asshole.”

“You know, you’re the bees knees, Richie,” Stan smiled so incomprehensibly drunkenly, Richie couldn’t believe it. Where the fuck was Stan, because he definitely had the wrong guy.

“Who are you and what have you done with Stanley?” He joked, letting Stan lean on him meanwhile he walked them both to the car.

And Richie was right - Stan did regret that in the morning. He went on his routine walk to his favorite little local coffee shop, hood up, sunglasses on, and head throbbing.

He ordered and sat down - not wanting to hear anymore interrogation or ridicule about what happened the night before from Richie. He already had a hangover induced headache, he didn’t need a Richie induced one to make it worse.

He zoned out while he drank his coffee, and didn’t notice the tall, light-brown haired boy take the seat across from him until he spoke.

“You’re the g-guy from last night.” Stan’s attention is quickly caught, and he whips his head up to lock eyes with - of course - fratboy asshole douchebag extraordinaire Bill Denbrough. “St-Stanley Uris?”

“Yeah, that’s me, look, I know you get with a lot of girls- er, people, - so don’t think I’m suddenly going to fawn for your atten-tion…” He trailed off, noting Bill scribbling something on a napkin. He smoothly slid it over to Stan, shoving the marker back into his vest pocket.

Stan looked at the paper, a phone number written on it. His cheeks flushed light pink, and he hoped Bill didn’t see.

“I th-thought you were the b-bees knees - and I’d most definitely l-love to do that sober.” He smirked a last time at Stan before walking suavely out of the quaint little shop.

Stan blushed harder.


End file.
